


If You Only Knew

by SapphicReverie



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicReverie/pseuds/SapphicReverie
Summary: Caroline finally caves to Gillian's relentless efforts to get her to the Hebden Women's Disco.
Relationships: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 92





	If You Only Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Holy cow, I've finally done it.  
> I've been on the good ship Gillian/Caroline (do we actually have an official name for them?) for quite a while, thanks to the FANTASTIC works by viviandarkbloom and more recently katiedingo, but this is my first time venturing into the writing wilds for these two.  
> katiedingo had posted a fic prompt on tumblr using Gillian's dialogue "You're very attractive, you should go for it." and others mentioned wanting a fic for the disco, and thus came this creation. I picked it up and put it down a number of times, so finally managed to get it finished today. I was getting a bit antsy to get it out, so I think it probably feels a bit rushed in the end. :/  
> Anyway, hopefully it provides some amount of entertainment and distraction from quarantine. Stay safe and healthy everyone, and thanks for reading!

_ Why the hell did I agree to this? _ She laments as she grudgingly slips from the Landy, swiping a hand across her ass to remove any remnants of God knows what filth left behind from the tatty leather seats. Gillian had insisted on taking the old clunker, despite Caroline’s repeated offers to drive, because they’d “fit in better amongst the Hebden ‘crowd’ ”. She’d been inclined to give Gillian her soapbox speech then about railing against societal stereotypes, using her own beloved Jaguar as a prime example, (yet failing to see how it’s basically just a bigger, posher version of the sheep farmer’s choice) but then Gillian waltzed into the kitchen wearing a new green floral dress with a slit in the middle that went well above her knees and a neckline that took a swan dive into her modest cleavage and she’d suddenly found herself momentarily speechless and utterly incapable of formulating a last ditch effort to convince Gillian they’d be better off getting pissed over a bottle of red on the dusty settee in front of a fire.

And thus, they wound up here: at the Hebden Women’s Disco. On Retro night. 

Looking across the hood of the Landy, Gillian flashes a mischievous smile. “Oh, come on Caz, don’t look so snotty. Never know, the next love of your life could be in there,” she teases with a roguish waggle of her eyebrows. “Unlikely,” Caroline huffs, her blue eyes rolling as she tugs the hem of her blush pink shirt before shaking back her platinum fringe and strutting with convincing, yet false, confidence in her precariously high black heels. Entering the club, they’re accosted by the bubble gum pop of Bananarama at a jarring decibel and Caroline instantly wishes she’d brought the fashionably discreet ear plugs that Gillian goaded her into leaving behind when she threatened to go change into dungarees before they left. Caroline dared not admit that it wasn’t the dungarees she was actually offended by, but rather the loss of the pleasing glimpses of Gillian’s thighs and decolletage in that lovely dress.

Though a little early for the typical scene, the place is surprisingly crowded, and to Caroline’s marginal relief, seems to be filled with women mostly over the age of thirty. Gillian turns to make eye contact and points to the long bar against the opposite wall, which Caroline responds to with a nod so emphatic she gives herself a crick in the neck; she’s going to need alcohol to survive this. The bartender, a cute girl in her mid-twenties, with a faux-hawk and pretty, albeit large, tattoo covering her left bicep, leans across the bar to take their order. Her curious gaze appraises Gillian before falling to Caroline with an appreciative smile. Gillian turns over her shoulder, “Glass of red?” Caroline nods and turns around to avoid any further flirtatious glances from the quite attractive, but far too young, barkeep as they await their drinks. Handing over the wine, Gillian raises her scotch and soda for a toast before taking a generous sip. “She was eyeing you. Told you that top would turn heads.” Gillian goads with an impish grin, gesturing with a nod to the generous peak of cleavage at Caroline’s neckline. “I’m old enough to be her mother!” she scoffs in disapproval. “And?” Gillian replies, her smile growing wide as the Cheshire cat’s and Caroline can’t help but smile and shake her head, grateful for Gillian’s refreshing lack of judgement, until her mind conjures images of Paul Jatry and Ollie, that dipshit cheese bloke from Greenhoughs, and she stops the mental trainwreck before it takes an uncomfortable turn into awkward territory.

She follows Gillian from the bar until she finds them a free hightop behind the DJ’s speaker and they commence their early round of people watching. Scanning the room, Caroline can just make out the various faces in the crowd and is surprised to see such a wide mix of women. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been to a lesbian bar in her life, all of which were over 30 years ago at Oxford and, if memory served, there’d really only been two types of women represented, and no one over the age of twenty five. Though the music remains the same (which she isn’t exactly upset about), she’s glad to see that the passage of time has, in this case, been a good thing, introducing a welcome variety of women across a whole spectrum of identity and, thank God, has evolved from a world of acid wash denim, bright colors and gargantuan shoulder pads.

Gillian follows her gaze around the room, eventually leaning into her shoulder and shouting over the music, “See anything you fancy?” Caroline flashes a look of shock in her direction, all the while an amused smile plays on her rose colored lips. “Who are you, Dolly Levi?” She scoffs as she takes another sip of her terrible wine, scrunching up her nose as she swallows. Just as her mind begins to wander, conjuring images of the lovely shepherdess in that particularly pleasing gold dress Streisand wore in the film, Gillian laughs, that boisterous laugh that makes her eyes glitter with delight and she feels that troublesome flutter in her stomach again, which she promptly drowns in the remainder of her shitty merlot. “Less matchmaker, more wing woman,” Gillian responds with a wink, sending Caroline’s stomach into acrobatics, and now she pictures Gillian’s ass in those surprisingly sexy navy blue dungarees. She rolls her eyes with a grimace.  _ How the hell do I explain that I’m not interested in meeting anyone because I’m actually rather enamoured with my sort-of stepsister? _ “Another round?” Gillian offers as she downs the rest of her drink. “God yes, but make it a gin and tonic, this wine is shit.”

Five drinks later, Gillian’s now drunk dancing and lip syncing “Don’t You Want Me” to Caroline from her spot on the dancefloor and Caroline has no doubt the universe is fucking with her. She’s just about mustered up enough (liquid) courage to join her when suddenly, a hand sweeps around Gillian’s hip as a tall woman with cropped black hair steps up behind her. Gillian looks over her shoulder at the handsome woman, then to Caroline with a sly smile and wag of an eyebrow. Caroline can’t help but shake her head, flashing a small smile in return. She watches as Gillian sways with the stranger and feels a slight pang of jealousy when she allows the tall woman to hold both her hips and draw their bodies flush against each other. Gillian’s smiling and when she looks up to meet Caroline’s gaze, her green eyes hold a momentary flash of seduction.  _ Fucking hell _ Caroline thinks as she breaks eye contact, fumbling for her glass to wet her mouth that’s suddenly gone dry. The song ends and Gillian turns to the stranger, offering a smile and nod before coming back to the table.

“You certainly seemed to enjoy that,” Caroline goads as Gillian takes a swig of her watered down scotch and soda. She shrugs her shoulders with a coy smile, “She was cute.” Caroline’s mouth falls open as she stares in disbelief. “Wait, do you, have you….” she trails off, too shocked to finish her train of thought. Gillian looks up from her glass, bashfully meeting Caroline’s expectant gaze, “Yea, a few times, when it were Eddie’s idea and a few times...when it wasn’t.” Caroline shakes her head, perplexed, “How come you’ve never told me this before?” Gillian shrugs again, “Dunno, just never came up.” Caroline stares gobsmacked until she finally releases an amused huff. “You never cease to amaze me, Gillian Greenwood.” Gillian flashes a devilish smile and grabs Caroline’s hand. “Ha! Now come on and dance with me,” she says as she pulls Caroline out onto the floor.

Debbie Harry sings of Rapture, Gillian looks as if she’s in the throes of it, and Caroline, weakened by her fourth gin and tonic plus the shit wine, can’t peel her gaze away. There’s a thin veil of perspiration collecting at the exposed skin between Gillian’s breasts and her eyes are closed as her hips gyrate to the rhythm and now Caroline understands exactly why the tiny sheep farmer has a long string of lovers.

Suddenly Gillian turns her back and presses her body against Caroline and instinctively Caroline wraps an elegant hand around her slender hip and her breath hitches when Gillian reaches up and interlaces their fingers. Their bodies sway together with the sensual rhythm until Gillian abruptly turns again, this time throwing her arms around Caroline’s neck. She leans in as she moves close to speak into her ear, over the volume of the music. “Find anyone yet?” She draws back, wiggling her eyebrows with a devilish smile. The scent of scotch and Gillian’s cheap, yet pleasing floral perfume lingers in the air between them and the warm breath against Caroline’s neck sends a shiver down her spine. “N-no, well...no.” Emboldened by liquid courage, she toys with throwing caution to the wind. “I mean, there  _ might _ be someone, but I highly doubt she’d have any interest.” Gillian’s eyes light up as she leans back to meet Caroline’s nervous gaze. “Rubbish! You’re very attractive; you should go for it. Besides, how else will you find out if she’s interested?”

Caroline’s lip bobs as she tries to speak, but Gillian’s out of her arms again, dancing and rapping along with Debbie with impressive accuracy. There’s pure joy in her eyes and Caroline is completely captivated by the way they light up Gillian’s face and the way it makes her own heart fill with elation. She can’t recall the last time she’s seen the perpetually worrisome woman so happy, and she can’t keep the smile from her lips as she continues to watch her nail every word and dance with wild abandon. Then suddenly she realizes that she wants to make this joy last, that she’d do anything to keep Gillian this happy and that truthfully her own happiness depends on it. She feels the inevitable pull as the song draws to an end, drumming up the courage to finally confess, as Gillian again moves closer. 

Over the speakers CeCe Peniston belts the first “finally” and Caroline groans and rolls her eyes at what is, quite possibly, the most cliche moment of her entire life, but she caves to the serendipity anyway. As Gillian brushes against her arm, she gently seizes her wrist and Gillian’s jade eyes meet her nervous gaze with an unspoken question. “You know, I fucking hate it when you’re right.” Caroline mewls with faux irritation. Gillian’s gaze only grows more perplexed until Caroline suddenly cradles her face and places a surprisingly intense kiss on her slightly open mouth.

When she pulls away, Gillian’s staring, and she drops her hands out of worry. Gillian remains speechless long enough for Caroline’s panic to send her into mentally tabulating options for how to successfully avoid any future family functions without causing suspicion, before a slow creeping smile begins to spread across Gillian’s lips. “Took you long enough.” She finally replies with a cheeky grin.

Caroline’s mouth falls open, and then she’s suddenly overcome with a raucous laugh that throws her face skyward and makes Gillian’s stomach somersault wildly. After finally regaining her composure, she gently takes Gillian’s hand and draws her in again, placing a lingering, tender kiss before pulling away with an amused shake of her head. “You little shit.” she husks with a grin. Gillian’s shy smile turns flirtatious, her eyes dancing with mischief as she wraps her arms around Caroline’s waist and draws her closer. “But you love it, snotty bitch.”


End file.
